On:

I need recipes for exotic dishes –things they never dreamed of inmy ancestors’ hometown of Fly, Ohio. What about Lost Sister Soup –some strange mixture of bone broth,spring greens, mushroomsforaged in faraway hills,and salt pure as baby’s blood? I want a meat pie, its fillingthe color of Phoenix feathers,crust theContinue Reading

On:

What is time, and what is it made of?Butter? Water? Sand?No matter. It doesn’t matter really. What was then is also now, and not just in my brain where timelines like to blend together and make my world confusing, but in actuality, too, if you believe in certain theories.There areContinue Reading

On:

A toasted English muffin with egg saladwith the crunch of organic celery.Radio— songs from the sixties, balladswith lyrics I learned better than anymemorized theorem for Regents examsin high school. I sing along between bites.Lunch is a rack of ribs from a lamb,artichoke stuffed with seasoned breadcrumbs tightbetween the prickly leaves.Continue Reading

On:

It has mushrooms. Lynette G. Esposito, MA Rutgers, has been published in Poetry Quarterly, North of Oxford, Twin Decades, Remembered Arts, Reader’s Digest, US1, and others. She was married to Attilio Esposito and lives with eight rescued muses in Southern New Jersey.Continue Reading

On:

Coming home from playing in the snow,handmade mittens soggy, smellinglike sheep, toes frozen from snowthat slipped inside too loose boots,steamed up windows signaled seriouscooking afoot. And the aroma, vegetalyet grounded in earthy beefiness,my Grandma’s goulash, quite the dish. Onions, carrots, potatoes, tomatoesand braised stew meat, a cheapcut that softened, meltedContinue Reading

On:

For Marlene, soup was a broth, cataract cloudy, noodles skimming the surface like a net. It was the type she poured from packets bought at Star Market and mixed with dehydrated chicken bits and imitation carrot. Historic mushrooms wrinkled from their time out of ground set against gluey celery. Granular,Continue Reading

On:

Try to turn up the warmth:the hot cup of tea, the adoring puppy,the morning sun through your writing studio window,the Rumi poems, your healing sauna,your crispy chocolate chip cookies,a recipe from your grandma,and the matzo ball soup fromyour long-gone aunt,the bag of potato chips left unopened,the pink bathrobe you gotContinue Reading

On:

swirls of brown sugar, lumpy soup,golden pools of butter. no, you say, no!not this! the fireside, the cold walk to school.have you got everything? just gimme a granola bar. the warm, sweet glue.spooning it up. raisins.sticky spoon, residue of gumin the blue bowl. look, not even the cat will eatContinue Reading

On:

Simmer peanut butter and honey. Hum the yum of flavors the way you hum her swayin a black dress. Mince the onions and garlic. Remember her smile as smooth as ginger when you sautéand salt. You spin-in cinnamon. How sweet her lips. Curry-in the turmeric. Spice the cayenne—aliveas the wetContinue Reading

On:

The Ramen Shop was near closing when a young man walked in. Though 20 minutes before the posted time, Grace had never had a problem kicking people out early, or opening late for that matter. If anyone ever asked her about whether she lost customers for her erratic hours, she’dContinue Reading